Creating Unnecessary Chaos

Dearest Rachel –

I think I might have told you about how I couldn’t figure out how to get the wall-mounted space heater in our bedroom to fire up and run as this season has grown colder; if I haven’t, I guess I’m telling you now. There’s a pull chain underneath it that would seem to be something of an ‘on’ switch, but when I would pull on it, nothing seemed to happen, and the room stayed cold. So I called the heating company whose number was stored in my phone (so you know we’ve relied on them before for this sort of thing), and arranged for them to send a service man out to take a look at it, and fix what seemed necessary to do so.

Thus satisfied that I would only need to endure one more cold night, I settled in to bed once we got home from Sparks last night. However, I noticed that, while the night was just as cold as the night before (and having been out in it, I ought to know), it didn’t seem nearly as uncomfortably cold in the room as I prepared myself for bed. All the same, I didn’t give the matter much thought, as the heater still wasn’t running, even as I drifted off to sleep.

This, of course, is where my story is supposed to move from the real world to whatever dreamscape my mind can conjure up. And while the details about it are rather sketchy, as I woke up literally in the middle of the night (around 2:30, to be precise, but bear in mind that we all tend to get more of our sleep after midnight than before, so midnight really isn’t “the middle of the night,” when you come down to it), and managed to get back to sleep thereafter, so the fact that I remember anything at all should be a bit of a wonder.

For whatever reason, college age me (and I have to assume that, because when else in my life would I have the opportunity and take such a position) was working as an intern in the Commerce Department of the current administration. Don’t ask me why – I haven’t voted Democrat since grammar school, when we had a straw poll in our class, and I thought Jimmy Carter was the better man compared to Gerald Ford. To be fair, I haven’t always voted Republican, either, but for me to be working for administration such as this one seems like an odd choice on their part.

I’m not entirely sure what my duties there entailed – I think that would be expecting too much of a dream, to come up with that much backstory – but somewhere along the way, the president himself asked several of us interns how we thought he was doing. Several of my colleagues? classmates? responded in the expected sycophantic manner, that he was doing an absolutely fantastic job, so much better than the guy before him (no one uttered his name; he’s kind of like Voldemort, as far as this administration is concerned).

And then, he came over to me with the question. And what transpired next would’ve never happened if this was in real life. You know full well how I kept silent before Mohinder and his berating lectures; I would have known in this situation to keep my mouth shut, if I had nothing good to add to the conversation. But for some reason, I requested permission to speak frankly – and did. I laid into my however-many-levels-above-me boss for all the failings of the last few years, wrapping up (as would be expected from someone working in Commerce) with the overall economic situation, and how, by attaching his name to the so-called ‘plan,’ he was absolutely dooming his chances with the upcoming election; people would associate him with their situation, and how much it had declined, and he would pay the price for it.

I expected him to blow up at me – I have read that his temper is legendary – but it seemed that, the longer I went on, the more he just looked sad, and hurt. Everything that I was saying, while true to the best of my understanding, was another knife to his heart. By the time I was wrapping up my own tirade, I was starting to trail off rather apologetically, in a sort of “you asked for my honest opinion, sir; this is what it is” way, at which point, he turned around and walked away without another word, leaving the scene to dissolve to…

…a real life barbecue that was held on the White House grounds this past Sunday, even as a war was beginning in the Middle East and the man was incommunicado from the press. Now, there’s something to be said for a staff appreciation get-together, and as one of those low-level staffers myself in the context of this dream, who was I to think that a scheduled shindig such as this would be cancelled for a crisis such as is going on halfway around the world? In real life, of course, I think it looks pretty terrible, as though he’s unable to address certain global emergencies, but in dreams, they’re of no consequence.

The festivities were emceed by our intern sponsor and supervisor. It would seem that our time at the White House was about to draw to a close, which may explain why I wasn’t fired on the spot, for my honest opinion, as I (along with the rest of my fellow interns) was about to leave anyway. Most of us were presented with certain parting gifts, a memento of our time at the White House. However, in my case, the gift was presented to the president; it was a large, rubber turkey, which our sponsor told him “tastes just like Randy,” indicating that I was the real turkey in this situation, for having the effrontery to speak my mind about the man and his policies.

In such a situation, one might be willing to acknowledge that this was nothing more than a gag gift, a bit of good-natured ribbing for the token conservative (which is all I can guess that I would be considered in that crowd). For all that I had said to the man, I’m pretty sure I had it coming. But what happened next was really strange, we’re it anything but a dream. First of all, the president actually bit into the rubber turkey, and gnawed on it for a second. I guess he was tasting it, in which case he gets points for being a good sport. But then, he came over to me, and while biting me to check my own flavor against the turkey might be understandable in the context of my sponsors’ throwaway line, this was more than a simple joke. He was gumming my arm as though it was slathered in the barbecue sauce that the rest of the offerings on the table were, and with a fearsomeness that rather suggested that he wanted to rip my arm off at the shoulder.

I didn’t know whether to be embarrassed or terrified at this display, but he just kept at it until I found myself awake. It was then revealed to me that the gnawing sound that he has been making was that of the space heater, its fan motor grinding merrily away to pump what heat it could into the room.

This explained why last night wasn’t nearly as cold as Sunday night; the heater was working just fine, I just was either not in the room or asleep when it was running after I fiddled with the on-off chain. Just like my answer to the president, I was creating unnecessary chaos by insisting on a repair visit; there would be nothing to fix, and I’d have wasted my money and the service man’s time by having him come over. Needless to say, I called the repair shop as soon as it opened and cancelled my appointment – although they did talk me into having them over for a routine maintenance check that I probably ought to do once a year (according to them, anyway). So, crisis averted in both the dream and the real world.

Interestingly, there was one more adjustment to my day that happened right after I got off the phone with the shop. Lars called, asking if I was ready to meet him today for a walk. He and I were scheduled to traverse the forest preserve on Friday, as he had been dealing with a serious cold at the end of last week, but he was feeling much better by yesterday evening, and texted me about rescheduling at the time, which I never saw. Just as well, though, since had I seen his text then, I would have told him that I was expecting a repairman at the house, and wouldn’t be able to adjust to his newfound health. As it was, when he called, I was suddenly at liberty for the day; apart from spending a little time at the folks’ place beforehand, I could meet him today with a clear schedule. So everything worked out in the end. Funny how that happens, isn’t it?

Anyway, I should finish this up, now that I’m back from that walk. Thanks as always for keeping an eye on me, honey, but please continue to do so, and wish me luck. I’m going to need it.